The side you haven't seen
by KlausAndElena4ver
Summary: He has always enjoyed slowly stripping the innocence from young girls piece by piece. And I have always enjoyed watching him to it.But this is different. he sees something different in her. Something that I am blind to. Clove pov on Cato and Katniss
1. Chapter 1

**I have been addicted to the hunger games since november 2011 and i have been clean for 2 months. Clean does mean 'cleaning' yourself of all the unawsome books that aren't the hunger games, right? Yeah, i know, bad joke. Anyway, I love the hunger games and ever since i watched the movie (not as good as the book but better than i expected) i have thought that there was more to Cato's interest in Katniss. So i have decided to write this fanfiction which will consist of 2/3 chapters. Bascially, it is Cato's and Katniss's relationship through the eyes of Clove. I've added a few things in that weren't in the book to make it a little more original but nothing major: just a few things that Cato does that could have been fitted in to the book without the plot changing but were, obviously, not. So i hope you enjoy!**

CLOVE POV

The Banshee like screams pierced my ears as I watched the greasy strands of black hair clinging to seam girl's face. Murky brown orbs stared widely at the petite blonde in front of her. The white material that blanketed the peacekeepers skin reflected the blankness of their hearts as their arms formed a wall between the dark haired girl and the much smaller blonde. The blonde couldn't have been much older than the number of her district. This was, probably, her first reaping.

"I volunteer!" shrieked the dirt covered banshee just before the white wall of arms crumbled before her.

District 12's first volunteer.

Others may have thought it fascinating: I thought it pathetic and predictable. Only someone from the outer districts would think that being a part of the Hunger games was anything less than an honour and only someone from those very same outer districts would deprive one of their own family members that same honour. As the blonde girl was carried away, desperately trying to capture her sister's hand, the banshee slowly walked up the stone steps towards the blindingly pink figure that was Effie Trinket.

Katniss Everdeen was the girl's name.

After the male tribute, a boy named Peeta, was called from the crowd of festering vermin I turned to look at Cato. Just as I was about to deliver a biting remark on how weak and pathetic the majority of this year's tributes were I noticed the way Cato's eyes focused on the face of the seam girl. Like his gaze was caught in the black widow's web.

As far as I had ever known the depths of Cato's so called 'windows to the soul' have never existed. They were usually filled with manipulation and resembled the green of the snake that hissed into Eve's ear. Voice dripping with charm and seduction, masking his true intentions, he would whisper for her to bite the apple and relish in the feel of its juice gushing down her throat. But, at this very moment those eyes were swimming with fascination.

"Cato? Cato!"

"What!"

"Aww, has little Cato got a crush?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" He hissed as his eyes took on a look similar to jagged edges of broken glass.

"Well, I'm sure you'll find a way to get in to her bed, or her in to yours. I suppose it depends on if you're dead set on beastiality with the vermin of district 12"

He gave me a sharp glare before stomping out the room.

**Abfgrfyrtjghhryihjlty**

I watched as his eyes darted along her body: lapping it up like she was the last drop of water under the sun. Her hair no longer slick with grease, her skin no longer soiled with soot and her hands wrapped around the metal curve of a bow some people would have called her beautiful and fierce. But I could see the way her body quivered under the gaze of the gamemakers. A spike of unexpected jealousy stabbed at me as I watched the way Cato looked at her. I don't understand! How can he be attracted to such a creature. A creature that is clearly marked prey. Why does he want her so much when all I want is to feel the bliss of burying by blade in to her heart?

He has always enjoyed slowly stripping the innocence from young girls piece by piece. And I have always enjoyed watching him to it. Watching how they squirmed when ever he was near: first in fear, then infatuation and then in pleasure. He is a puppet master; he pulls the strings of their heads and hearts until all of those weak and feeble strings have snapped. Moving on to his next conquest he leaves a mess of tattered crimson thread behind him.

He's, probably, one of the reasons that our district is full of soulless and sadistic bitches.

But this is different; if he wants to destroy a girl he never lets his interest go unnoticed. He never lets them feel unwanted until the end when he breaks their heart.

He peruses them like the ruthless bastard he is.

So why does he watch her from a far?

Because of lover boy?

Doubtful.

It's because he sees something different in her.

Something that I am blind to.

He captures my gaze with eyes narrowed. We both know neither of us are supposed to be here. Before there is time for us to do anything else we snap toward the sudden sound of startled gasps coming from the mouths of the gamekeepers. There, in the stalls, lay a roasted pig lying idly on a platter. The apple, which used to be trapped between the animal's jaws, was now pinned to the wall. The end of an arrow protruded from its blood red body.

"Katniss Everdeen. I thank you all for your time," the fire girl says sarcastically while giving a theatrical bow to the gamemakers.

I was surprised; I really didn't think she had it in her.

Even if it was an incredibly stupid idea.

But Cato didn't seem to think so; a broad smile lit up his face as his hand came to his mouth to stifle the chuckles. He watched her intently as she walked out the room. Amusement and respect were clear in those green orbs.

A bitter sigh left my lips. I walked stiffly from the room.

What does he think he's doing?

**Hi, so what da ya think? The next chapter will be them in the hunger games but that will probably be the final chap unless i decide to be cruel/kind (depends on your opinion) and push it up to 3. The more reviews i get the faster i update. Simples *squeak***


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is chapter two. Enjoy! Oh, and alot swearing in this one.**

CLOVE POV

I let myself lounge on the couch as I twirl a blade with my fingertips. Black tendrils of hair sprawled across the cream material. Matted and split at the ends soon to become layer upon layers of flowing silk after those stylists have finished with me. It's amazing how a lifetime of training for death can turn you in to a girl who couldn't care less how her hair looked (even if you do come from the capital's favoured district).Cato, Enobaria and Brutus all sat in the same room on different lumps of furniture with eyes focused on the TV screen. Cato more so than our mentors. Where as Cato squeezed his hands in a vice like grip and scraped his toes against the floor so hard that they had started to make claw like dents in the wood Enobaria and Brutus seemed to take my approach. Brutus lay back lazily, but not without steel in his stare, and Enobaria absentmindedly picked at her teeth so roughly that I thought she was trying to tear the gold plates from the triangles. I was one-hundred percent sure that my score wouldn't be any lower than a nine and so was Cato. He was just riled up for the competition. He needed to know that he got the highest score of them all. Pride is his biggest weak spot. And to be fair I was masking a frenzied need to know the score of the bitch on fire.

Cato's body became stiff as they started to roll out the numbers that could mean the difference between a tribute's life and death. The first was Glimmer from district one. The image showed a tall girl with long flaxen hair falling like golden waves against the grey suit as her green eyes gazed ahead of her like the sharp edges of an emerald. She received a ten from the judges. Then was her partner, the boy Marvel, who was shown as a scraggy, skinny tribute with a height of around "6.3". He got a score of 9.

Then came our district. Leaning further towards the screen Cato took a jagged breath through gritted teeth. A tall body with short blonde hair, bottle green eyes and bumps of solid muscle appeared on the monitor.

"And the score for our male district 2 tribute is..." Cato waited with baited breath.

"Ten" said the blue haired capital cheerfully.

Cato's eyes narrowed. His was body still tense and stiff. Knowing him he will be like this until all tributes have emerged on screen.

After being presented as a small dark haired imp like character with a mischievous smirk on its face I found out that my score was equal to Cato's.

The gorgeous twat held a grin on his face almost the whole way through as fairly low numbers came up for each person (All though the male from district 11 did rouse a growl from his throat.)

Finally, the words district 12 came in to view. First was 'lover boy' who got a score of 8. I felt a snigger slip past my lips at the number and watched as my district partner smiled mockingly at the TV.

"And now for the score of our final tribute..." As his face goes blank, as the smile is wiped from his features and as his body tilts towards the glass I know this is the one we've both been waiting for. The banshee: The bitch on fire.

"Katniss Everdeen," He says in a voice that is clearly intended to rile up the crowd.

Ever so slowly he slides the card from the envelope. I watch the way his fingers lightly pinch the edges of the paper. It renders me completely oblivious to the feel of the serrated rim of the blade sliding into my palm as if it were butter. I don't notice as the blood slides across my skin, coating it with a sticky trail: a coppery scent. I don't notice the red liquid spilling over my flesh to land on the cream fabric beneath it.

"11"

I don't notice as the blade is wrenched from its bed and flies across the room to land in the center of the screen.

I relish in the feel of her screams pulsating through me. One knife embedded in the bitch's stomach while the other decorates her face with shallow cuts I growl with the power of an animal: a lion as it feeds on its prey.

"Clove!"

A voice rips me from my reverie as I realise who I am really trying to kill. Not the bitch on fire. Cato lay beneath me. His left hand held a fixed grip around my wrist. I notice that my hand holds the end of the blade that had previously been buried in the broken glass of the TV screen.

The breath is knocked out of me when I feel the tables turn. His brawny hands hold mine above my head as his eyes look at me with rage and shock.

"Clove, what the fuck was that!" He spat.

"Oh, well, I suppose you wouldn't care if she got a higher score than you! You're too infatuated with the rat faced bitch to give a fuck!"

I swear to god that he saw red and was about to hit me but before I could find out the strong arms of Brutus tore him away from me.

"The only reason I care if either of you kill each other, before the games begin that is, is that it will reflect badly on me. So, get your shit together and stop feeding me bull,"

Me and Cato stared at our mentor with sight tinged crimson.

"Both of you are pathetic! Clove you stay here. Cato get out of my sight and go cool off" Brutus growled as he gave us, what can only be described as, death glares.

Nostril flaring, hands clenched to form fists and teeth bared Cato slammed the door. Its hinges bent with the force.

**Okay, so, that was very hard work for me. I hope you appreciate it. I know I said this chapter was going to be based in the actual arena but I've decided to add some more detail and show Clove's Pov in a couple more events that I was going to miss out originally. I also know that some people see Clove as being a little more diplomatic than Cato but to me she will always be the crazy, psycho bitch from district 2 who can flip at any given moment. I suppose we all have different interpretations of our favourite characters ;) I'm half through the third chapter and i've already written some Katniss and Cato interracion so that will be coming up The more reviews the faster the update **

**Ps I can get very paranoid so do you think this warrants an M rating?**


	3. Chapter 3

_**I AM SO SORRY! My Mum cancelled the internet and my computer screen cracked and everything here has been written in the precious three days that I have had access to school computers. So, I'm RREEEAALLY SORRY! My computer should be fixed by Wednesday. Here's the next chapter. I hope it was worth such a long wait. I'M SO SORRY!**_

Chapter 3

THIRD PERSON

Two tributes stand side by side. The stillness of the air wrapped around them like a blanket.

"So, fire girl, eleven huh? How'd a girl like you manage that kind of score" Cato asks through a clenched jaw. It's then that a large rip travels through that blanket, leaving frayed edges.

Katniss turns to look at him with a wary expression on her face.

"A girl like me?" she says with one eyebrow arched.

"You're a fairly small tribute. It's unlikely you got through using strength. So, what's your skill? Or do the gamemakers just love a feisty seam girl?"

A stony expression crosses her face.

"And what makes you think I want to give you a detailed description of how to kill me?"

All Cato did in reply was turn to face the elevator's doors with a smirk pulling at his lips.

From then to the time the Elevator doors opened the blanket was quickly mended, leaving a few white threads to dangle from its body.

When the doors did open and the ringing of the elevator bell did enter the air Cato said one thing.

"The capitol does like its pork, doesn't it?"  
>Sauntering away Cato didn't look back to see the shock in Katniss's eyes.<p>

Clove Pov

I sat ready to be attacked by my stylists. It took no more than a minute for them to usher me into the room where they would polish my skin, tear away at my nails and hair, pluck my eyebrows and cake me in various types of makeup.

All I need to do is get through these interviews and then I'll be in the arena. That's where the real fun begins.

They wedged me in to a clown-orange dress with flamboyant, translucent frills lining the top.

My mentor wants me to play up the 'angle', as he calls it, of sarcasm with a strange sense of charm. Well, the sarcasm part shouldn't be too hard.

Standing in front of the mirror I saw the way they had twirled my black hair elegantly on top of my head and let a few rebel strands hang lose against my cheeks and forehead. The material of the dress squeezed my figure like the unpleasant burn of a rope as it rubs against your skin, keeping you in place.

I did look nice; the stylists have done a good job. But this makes me feel uncomfortable. I'm not used to being dressed up and... Well, _pretty_. I mean, sure, I used charm as device to get my own way (and you don't have to be good looking to act like a charming person) but I've never been particularly _pretty._ I wonder what Cato will think.

I violently shook those thoughts from my head and replaced them with the image of a bloody arena. It will be me and him in the end game. I can't afford to think of him this way. I replaced my look of wonderment and surprise in to one of ruthlessness and confidence.

"It will do," a voice of capitol dissent wearily spoke from the corner of the room.

"It will do?" I challenged. Crossing my arms and letting annoyance colour my tone I gave the stylist a sharp glare.

"You're not the worst looking tribute we've ever had but your beauty is extremely poor for a young girl from district 2; we're used to dealing with much more... What is the word? Appealing? No. Comely? Yes, comely. We're used to more comely tributes from a district such as your own. We've had more decent looking female tributes from district 12 than you"

I could barley control my anger as I felt the sharp edges of my just-manicured-nails slice in to my palm. Before I had the chance the pounce on the infuriating Capitol member, who now looked like he might regret some of his most recent words, the piercing ring of a bell signalled that the interviews were about to start. I took a deep breath with eyes closed and fingers roughly pinching the bridge of my nose. I walked from the room, avoiding the stylist's gaze as I did so. Fuming I slipped in to the line of tributes.

Cato stood behind me looking like the killing machine he was. His eyes held a look of blankness. It was like a green sheet shielded his soul from the outside world while giving out the rays of hostility and undeniable menace. He barely gave me a glance as my name was called out. Yes, this is what's best. We may have shared the same ground that we called home at one point but one of us has to die. I plastered a mischievous smile to my face as I walked on to the stage. The air was overwhelmed with the excited screams of the Capitol and the feel of Caesar Flickerman's shock blue hair brushing against it. I would be to if it wasn't for the years of training, of preparation, that had led up to this moment. I sat down opposite from Caesar and let him tell his tiresome jokes and questions.

"So, you volunteered, didn't you Clove? Now, why would a girl of your age want to do that? You had your whole life ahead of you so what made you choose to come all the way over hear? Was it the glory of winning the games or was it that our style is to good to resist?" He raised his eyebrows and patted his hair at the last comment. A chorus of laughter rung through the interview room. I laughed along with them and made a sarcastic comment on how I'd always wanted my head to look like an ice rink.

"What do you think Capitol? Would you skate on my head at Christmas?" He joked, making a mock attempt of skating on the stage.

"Yes!" they screamed in reply before Ceasre made a comical attempt of falling on the'ice' and landing awkwardly on his chair. One he straightened himself up and the voices of the crowds had calmed to the odd whisper he asked "What is you main goal when you get into the arena, Clove? What can we expect to see from you? We all know that you got very good score but why?"

I barley had to think about my answer.

"To take out the competition,"

The crowd was silent.

"The competition?"

"Some people need to die before they have a chance to get in my way,"

A deep dong resonated through the air, breaking the silence.

"Well, that's are three minutes up,"

The audience groaned theatrically.

"Don't worry; we've got her district partner up next,"

I saw a few women swoon when they caught sight of Cato, his golden hair, his muscular physique and eyes that radiated pure masculinity.

I climbed up the stairs that led to the tributes seats and let the time drudge by. Winding dark strands of hair around my fingertips I let a bored sigh pass my lips. Cato's interview had finished a good nine districts ago and sat on the other side of the tribute stand with his eyes fixed on the red swirls of a tight fitting, sun coloured dress. Body rigid and unmoving the seam girl's eyes gave away her front of a hard-shelled exterior. They swam with nervousness and fright. It was sickening and made me all the more eager to get my blades to her skin. I hated the way he looked at her. I hated it!

I stared at her with resentment and an envy that I would never admit to myself. Her name was called her out and I watched her interview with pure loathing. The way she spans in her dress was sickening. The way she laughed was sickening. Everything about her was sickening. And I will make sure that I, no one else, am the one to kill her.

When the rage filling sound of The Bitch On Fire's garbles and giggling had finally ceased there was but one interview left.

Cato's reaction to Peeta's little crush was to chuckle and smirk at, what he believed to be, lover boy's absurdity. And,yet, his face fell when he saw that bitch's face flush with a deep crimson red and her eyes stare guiltily at the red, heeled shoes that encased her feet. Cato's previous face of amusement was, again, nothing but a blank sheet. No one would get in my way of killing her. No one! She can not live. Not after what she's done to Cato

_**So, what do you think. I would really appreciate some feedback (that is if I have any readers left) Do you want me to continue to add the odd third person paragraph in or do you prefer Clove Pov all the way through? Please Review! AGAIN, I AM REEELLLLLYYYY SSSOOOORRRYYY**_


	4. Chapter 4

He found her in a tree one night. She had a bloodied hand and an array of cuts across her face. Her eyes were closed to the sky's vast image and her head hung limply from the branch. Not that it mattered that her lids were shut; that darkness of soggy clouds and moonless night was uninteresting. The capitol had taken all the stars away, leaving only the thin sheet of the dome to satisfy their stares. There was not one glimmer of light to touch the skin or graze the pupil.

A slight breeze tickled the grass and the feathered edge of the arrows shivered. One slid from the leather's grasp and sliced the ground with a silent swoop, causing a soft movement in the girl's hair.

Cato's feet started to move forward. His tread was gentle, well practiced were these quiet pads. The academies weren't all about the use of cold steel. Years of Cato's life had led up to the perfection of the silent predator. You press your weight to your heel and you learn to almost forget your intentions, since memories of them can cause any man of cold heart to falter.

His eyes appraised her. Her and her milky skin and sharp boned hips. Malnourished but beautiful in heart. That muscle was tender from the flames that licked it, warming her sense of love and bravery. No one in Cato's district would have ever volunteered for the safety of another because they were all of selfish ilk who choose to dwell in the bloodiest places of glory.

He picked up the arrow.

" Cato!"

**ASDFGHJKL;'#**

There are only four of us left now: Me, Cato, Lover Boy, and The Bitch and ,yet, Cato's infatuation has continued to burn him from the inside out. When there were many of us his eyes used to search the sky, narrowed and his muscles tense. It was her face that he craved. Stupid boy. I'd always thought that Cato would be the one person that wouldn't make me sick.

Oh, how wrong was I?

To think that Cato, the man of pride and vile thoughts, would be the one to fall. And for a rat, none the less.

Which is why I'm at the place of the river now, following his path.

Oh, sure, gone to collect wood have you?

Liar!

He has endangered us both with this fallacy of his besotted heart.

Ah, and to trees we come, were the bitch has lay her bed.

Just one step closer, Cato, and you could have her by the throat. Oh, but you wouldn't, would you? Obsession has weakened your muscle of ice to a wet puddle of soppy love. And your pride only makes it worse; too proud to admit to anyone you want her and too proud to truly admit it even to yourself.

I'd had enough!

" Cato!"

The call was not much more than a whisper but it was of enough volume to turn his head. It was full of pure venom and anger. You disgust me! You stupid, stupid bast-

It's funny. I didn't really feel it. It just kind of slid in and made my eyes go hazy. There was no pain; it was only the warmth I felt: the warmth of the gushing red and the smell of copper.

Then I fell.

"Clove!"

And then he fell to.

I saw the arrow protruding from his abdomen and watched as his eyes shed the first tears I had ever seen travel down his cheeks.

But, as I felt myself leaving my body, those eyes weren't looking at me. Those beautiful eyes were staring up at a small, bony figure. They held a look of respect and admiration. They admitted defeat and closed before he could press a hand to the murderer's cheek.

I saw her eyes widen.

The Bitch On Fire.

**I'm aware that this isn't much but I didn't feel right letting something that could so easily be finished not get finished. So, I hope this is a decent ending to the story. Thank you to all of you who have reviewed (you've made me very happy) and I'm sorry for the very long hiatus. If anyone also read my other story, I can't promise that'll I'll finish that one due to it intentionally being a large chaptered story and, after the summer holidays, I will be going into year 10. That means GCSE's. Therefore, I probably won't have a lot of time on my hands. But thank you to anyone who has favourite, reviewed, put on alert and any others I have missed out. **


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